Black Hermione Nativity
by WizMonCruWil
Summary: "From black to white, from dark to light, to day from night. This crossing you shall make, when true love's kiss the spell shall break" I have never seen any fics that write about an African American Hermione specifically. This has been in the works for a long time, and I am finally ready to take a break from my Reylo binge. Follow Hermione on a journey of love & racial self-worth.
1. Chapter 1: Stand Up For Your Race

**Chapter 1: Stand Up for Your Race**

11-year-old Hermione Granger nervously traversed the train car hallway as she searched for a seat. Ever since she had received the mysterious letter in the post telling her that she was a witch and had been accepted into a school for magic, she had known that today would be the hardest part of her mystical journey. Lugging her trunk behind her, Hermione checked each and every compartment she came to, hoping for a free seat. Many of the faces she encountered were huddled in their respective cliques. Most of those faces were hostile, when they looked her way. And almost every single one of those faces were white, as she was told time and time again:

"Taken."

"Taken."

"This seat's taken."

Closing the latest sliding glass door, Hermione sighed. It was hard enough being a young black girl in Muggle London. She supposed it was too much to hope for that racism, even unconscious racism, would not be present in the magical world.

Still, she knew that not all white people were bad. Hermione had been adopted as a baby by a white couple, Mr. and Mrs. John Granger of Southhampton. A pair of dentists, her adoptive parents had loved and cared for her as they would have with any biological, white baby. In the world outside her front door, Hermione had attended mostly white Muggle primary schools. Making a friend who also shared her dark skin - hell, making a friend at all, because of her bookish ways - had been an extremely rare occurrence. None of her other classmates had looked like her. Hermione stood out... and she noticed. And it had made her wonder why did she have to be black? Setting Hermione on her knee, her mother would always say to her that someday, her daughter would find other people who loved her, just as her parents did. And that those people, those future loved ones, would be of any race. Mrs. Granger had even put the promise into a rhyme, as seen in the fairytale stories Hermione heard as a child:

"From black to white, from dark to light, to day from night

This crossing you shall make

When true love's kiss

The spell shall break"

So far, Hermione had come to the cynical suspicion that her mother, while well-meaning, was also wrong.

Her feet caught together unexpectedly, causing Hermione to lose her balance and crash into a group of boys in dark green robes. The leader, a blonde boy with pale skin, growled at her, almost baring his teeth.

"Watch where you're going, you filthy Mudblood!"

Hermione leaned back, stung. Even though she had never heard the phrase before, she knew an epithet when she heard it. Just like she knew the one she thought she heard the same blond boy mutter under his breath as he stalked away. It started with the letter "N."

Negro. Nigger. Hermione had heard it, barely above a whisper, far more times than she, her parents, or anyone else would ever care to admit. And still, it made her blood boil, and righteously. Even if the curse also still cut her to the quick. Staring at her reflection in the compartment mirror, Hermione found herself wanting. Underneath her robes, she could hardly make out her breasts - never mind that puberty was only just starting to set in. Her hair was wild, untamed and frizzy. And her skin, though unblemished, was still chocolatey black.

"I've seen that look before." Hermione turned around to find an older dark-skinned girl observing through the open door of the compartment she was studying herself in. "Girl, you've got to embrace your black beauty! Embrace your blackness! And don't let that racist snot Draco Malfoy tell you any different!"

Hermione smiled weakly at the empowering message, even if she didn't feel very empowered yet. "I didn't think there'd be anyone else like me. Hardly anyone, really."

The girl stole an arm around her. "Well, not to worry, first year. My name's Angelina Johnson. I'm a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and President of the Hogwarts Black Students Coalition. It's true, you won't find many people like us, but we stand strong together!" Leading Hermione kindly into the compartment, she pointed out a black boy with an afro seated with two white boys. The white boys looked to be identical twins, with flaming red hair.

"Bloke with the afro is Lee Jordan. And these here two idiots are Fred and George Weasley."

"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione said shyly, shaking each of them by the hand.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Hermione," said one of the twins. She couldn't tell if it was George or Fred. "And don't worry - not all white students are prejudiced." He seemed to cast his eyes over to Angelina as he said this, and Hermione recognized the smitten look in his eyes. Clearly, he had a crush.

Finally accepted into a compartment, Hermione had a great time talking with her new friends, especially Angelina and Lee. They told her that there were only a handful of other black students in the school, but that they tended to stick together.

In the middle of the train ride, a roly-poly boy came into their compartment crying and asking if anyone had seen his pet toad. Hermione, always ready to help someone in need, offered to help the boy - Neville - find him. Splitting up to traverse both lengths of the train, Hermione came across a compartment with two white boys in it.

The one boy had dark hair with glasses. The other had flaming red hair not unlike the Weasley twins. Hermione wondered if this was their younger brother. The redhead was awkwardly trying to cast magic on a pet rat. Pitying his feeble attempts, Hermione tried to comfort him by letting herself demonstrate. She was always eager to display her knowledge and prowess of magic.

By the time the train was pulling into the station, Hermione had had her fun. Crossing to leave, she told the redheaded boy: "You've got dirt on your nose, by the way. Did you know? Just there."

Flouncing away, Hermione didn't know it then, but she had just met her two best friends.


	2. Chapter 2: First Kiss With a White Man

**Chapter 2: First Kiss With a White Man**

Three short years later, Hermione had grown into a striking young woman. The two white boys she had met on the train - Harry Potter and Ron Weasley - had, much to her surprise, become her truest friends. Though Ron could be a little immature at times, he was also fiercely protective, especially when Draco Malfoy came loping along with his racist ways.

More than just race, Hermione had learned there was an informal caste system in the wizarding world. And it was concentrated in blood. Going deeper than even the color of one's own skin, some wizards - like the Malfoy family - believed they were better than anyone else because they had truly magical, "pureblood." Ron and the Weasleys happened to be purebloods, but had never bought into the eugenics regime. They were looked down upon the Malfoys as "blood traitors."

Having been born to only one magical parent, Harry was a half-blood. Hermione found herself quite close to him because both of them had been raised by Muggles since they were children - though in Harry's case, it had never been pleasant.

Already in her fourth year, Hermione was starting to find that she had blossomed into an attractive woman. And with this sexual awakening, she had also discovered that she found herself attracted to members of all races. Black or white, she lusted after men of both groups the same. Although some of the objects of her attraction she would rather not admit, there was one person to whom she was currently quite taken... and he was a white man.

Viktor Krum of the visiting school of Durmstrang was at Hogwarts for the year as part of the Triwizard Tournament. Tall, striking, with a chiseled and prominent face, Hermione had been quite flattered and surprised when he had taken to noticing her. His interest had culminated in him asking Hermione to the Yule Ball on Christmas Eve, to which Hermione had happily accepted. Hermione's emotional maturity had allowed her to eye and appreciate older men, and Viktor Krum was quite a specimen of a man, nearing his twenties.

Going to the ball on the arm of a Triwizard champion had caused some rifts between Hermione and her friends, and she had been particularly crestfallen to see the animosity extend to Ron. Hermione had her own theories about that, but she would rather not get into them. Not while she was busy saying goodnight to her date.

Standing at the Grand Staircase leading into the Great Hall, Viktor took Hermione's hand and pressed his lips to it. "Good night, Herm-i-o-ninny."

She smiled weakly at the mispronunciation of her name, a faint tinge of pink to her cheeks. "Good night."

Viktor didn't move for a moment, glancing up to something above his head. "Ah," he drolled almost casually. "Mistletoe..."

Hermione followed his gaze, and before she could ask him what he was doing, Viktor had wrapped his arms around her waist and guided her lips to his.

It was her first kiss.

Whimpering in surprise for a moment, Hermione allowed herself to slowly relax and even melt into the kiss. Looping her arms about his tall frame, her hands not quite reaching his neck, she awkwardly attempted to kiss him back. "Mmmm..."

Her technique was likely atrocious, but Viktor held it for several minutes before pulling away, pleased. Bowing to her again, the champion departed, leaving Hermione in a daze.

What had just happened? She had just experienced her first kiss... and she had shared it with a white man! Well, Viktor's skin tone was really more olive, but... Oh, what did it matter? He was still white!

Not that Hermione minded anything about that. Viktor was a good kisser, and it had been a nice kiss. But still, whenever she had allowed herself to picture it, Hermione had always imagined sharing her first kiss with someone of her own race. Lee Jordan, perhaps, or even Dean Thomas. Far from being racist, that kind of fantasy was a natural thing to envision.

Thinking back over how Viktor's lips had felt against hers, Hermione blanched. Word would get back to Gryffindor Tower, surely. And once it did, what would Ron say? Remembering their spat before she had banished him up to bed, Hermione found herself bursting into tears. Sinking onto the staircase steps, she buried her face in her palms and cried.

"Hermione?"

She glanced up, sniffling, to find Lee Jordan staring down at her with sympathy. "Why are you crying?"

Hermione knew it was about Ron. But her brain was still so-lightheaded, she gave the wrong reason:

"Viktor Krum kissed me."

Lee blinked, thrown by the explanation, until his eyes narrowed in understanding. "And you didn't want it? I swear I'll hex him, Hermione, if you say Yes!"

"No, I did want it. I... even liked it." She smiled waterly even as she blushed. "It just wasn't... what I was expecting."

"And what _were_ you expecting?" Lee took a seat.

Again, Hermione flushed, embarrassed. "It's just that... whenever I imagined having my first kiss, I always figured it would be someone like you or Dean." As for the racial undertones, she needn't explain; Lee seemed to understand immediately.

Lee grinned. "Well, when you put it like that... yeah, you were gipped."

Hermione frowned bemusedly. "How do you mean?"

"Girl, every Negro girl needs to at least once in their life taste black lips!" Hearing the charged term, Hermione winced. Lee took more liberties with certain racial language - some black people did. To someone like Lee, uttering words meant endowing them with a certain ownership. Someone else might call in pride, empowering.

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione hadn't seen Lee look up and spy the sprig of mistletoe in the archway. When she next focused her gaze on him, she was surprised to find Lee rather intimately touching her face.

"Hermione?"

"...Yeah?"

"Have you ever been kissed? Like, _really_ been kissed, by a nice black boy?"

Hermione gulped visibly. "I'm not sure I have." Her voice came out in a whisper.

Lee needed no more encouragement. Cupping Hermione's face in his hands, he pulled her head close to him and settled his mouth along hers in a kiss.

Hermione's eyes went wide at display of affection. Lee's mouth was soft, pliant and warm; he tasted... sweet. Closing her eyes, lashes fluttering shut, Hermione surprised even herself when she responded enthusiastically to the kiss. Weaving her fingers into Lee's ridiculous afro, she tugged on the strands, yanking him closer with a low groan. "Mmmm..."

All at once, Hermione felt Lee's tongue slip against her mouth, and she jerked her head back the slightest bit.

"What... what are you doing?"

Lee grinned. "Just watch." And he kissed her again. This time, when his tongue sought entrance, he coaxed Hermione into parting her lips, so that his tongue could dance between the split. Hermione answered in perfect harmony, allowing their tongues to dance.

After several minutes, Hermione and Lee broke apart with a tiny smack. Drawing away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Hermione flushed scarlet.

"I've never snogged anyone like that..." she admitted.

Lee laughed. "I've got one on Viktor Krum, then! Christmas really has come early... er, on time." He grinned. "Good night. Thanks, Hermione."

Seizing his hand, Hermione squeezed it. "Thank _you_, Lee."


	3. Chapter 3: First Touched By a Black Man

**Chapter 3: First Touched By a Black Man**

She really knew that she should be sitting dutifully at the Quidditch match and watching Harry. But Dean Thomas had asked to speak with her in private, telling her it was really important. On Ron's promise that he would hold the binoculars and watch the skies, in case anything new happened, Hermione allowed herself to steal down under the pitch bleachers with Dean.

"Dean," she laughed. "Why can't you just tell me what this is all about?" Sitting down on the hardwood, Dean turned to face her, clasping both of her hands in his. He now suddenly appeared to be very nervous.

"Hermione... I need to tell you that... I'm in love with you, and I think you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

Hermione's mouth fell open at this. She had known she had been the object of crushes from other boys. Her brief romance with Viktor Krum had blossomed from one such crush. And she knew that Neville Longbottom had secretly been longing after her for years, though he had never said anything.

"Oh..." she murmured. "I..."

Dean now bent his face quite close to hers eagerly. "May I please kiss you?"

Hermione blushed. She now recalled that Dean was the first boy who had asked her if she would like to be kissed. Viktor had just dived right in for one, and though she had been slightly more ready for it, Lee had done the same thing. The mistletoe from that Christmas night had been the perfect excuse.

Now, staring at Dean, she found herself giggling. "Well, with grammar like that, erm, yes, you may."

Dean beamed, and then he was kissing Hermione's lips eagerly. With a sigh, Hermione allowed her mouth to fall open, and her tongue to play with his. She felt Dean's hands fall into her hair, and her fingers quickly made to grip the side of his head as she pulled him in for a deeper kiss. With how much he wanted this, she might as well sell it.

She hadn't noticed that Dean's hands had drifted low to slide around her waist until she found herself straddling him, tumbling into his lap. Still heatedly snogging, Hermione felt the intimate position send a rush of dampness between her legs. The primal instinct - to find herself in heat - was almost of its own accord. Even if she had never imagined sleeping with Dean.

A shiver exploded along her skin as she felt Dean's one hand creep up along her chocolate thigh, underneath the hem of her skirt and drifting close to her flooded panties. Squirming, Hermione yanked out of the kiss abruptly.

"Dean...?"

To his credit, he immediately paused. "I'm sorry, it's just... has anyone touched you like this?"

Now positively scarlet, Hermione shook her head.

"May I?"

Slowly, Hermione nodded her head. "Yes, please." Her voice had strangely dropped several octaves, coming out in a raspy croak.

Smiling in absolute delight, Dean kissed Hermione again, and draping her arms about his neck, she moved to kiss him back. When she felt his fingers first make contact with her wet pussy, she shuddered violently, and her fingers scrabbled along his back for purchase. Dean's touch was making her body almost live with electricity, and had she not been straddling his lap, she would have fainted dead away. She felt Dean dip a finger into her cunt, rubbing her clit, and she moaned happily. "Mmmmhmmmm..." Until now, Hermione had only ever touched herself. To have a man give her attentions was quite a thrilling experience.

Meanwhile, Dean had reached up his other hand to tentatively cup the swell of Hermione's left breast. Hermione felt the mounds rise under his touch, her dark pink nipples pebbling under her white shirt and straining. Letting him know it was all right that he touch her like that, Hermione wrenched free of the kiss and pushed her breasts into his face.

"Mmmm... yes, more, please," she rasped, throwing her head back, eyelids fluttering shut.

Through her shirt, Dean now began to kiss her breasts. Once he felt like he had lavished the one, he switched to the other one, feasting like a child would on candy. All the while, his one hand was still up Hermione's skirt, continuing to stroke and fondle her clit.

Grabbing his face, Hermione mashed her lips back against his, groaning. With every flick of his wrist, she felt the walls of her core clenching, the heat inside of her building. Letting her mouth fall open against his, Hermione worked her jaw muscles sore as she and Dean continued snogging.

"Mmmm... Hmmm... Mmmhmmmm... Hmmmm... HMMMMMM!" Her walls finally clenched, Hermione came with a muffled curse on his hand, her voice pitching into a whimpering squeal. Liquid streaming down between her legs, she felt Dean retract his hand and they continued to kiss.

A particularly boisterous cheer pulled Hermione and Dean from their close embrace and they broke apart with a snap. Panting, her breasts heaving, Hermione daintily lifted herself of his lap.

"Thank you," she gasped, still in amazement. And turning, her knickers positively damp, her lips swollen and her frizzy black hair a mess, she ran to meet Ron, leaving Dean with the best not-quite-whole-shag of his life.


	4. Chapter 4: The Spell is Broken?

**Chapter 4: The Spell is Broken?**

All was quiet in the Chamber of Secrets. Drenched and soaking wet, Hermione and Ron stared at the place where the now-destroyed locket Horcrux had once been.

Turning slowly to each other, realizing that they were still alive, Ron and Hermione allowed themselves to sag in relief. As one, the thought previously unspoken, black girl and white boy rushed into each other's arms, embraced and kissed.

From the moment her lips touched his, Hermione knew that this was the best snog she had ever had in her life. Better than Viktor, better than Lee, better than Dean... With all that horrid practice sixth year with Lavender Brown, Ron had turned into an accomplished kisser. Nearly collapsing, her arms flinging about his neck, Hermione allowed herself to get lost in the kiss.

The deep kisses soon turned into little desperate pecks, and Ron and Hermione found themselves tearing at each other's clothing. With how drenched they were, the fabric practically ripped in their hands, until Hermione was in nothing but her bra and panties. Eyes slowly opening, her lips drew from Ron's softly, as she paused to take him and his briefs in. Stepping back, her entire body turned red.

"It's OK," Ron's smile was brilliant. "You're beautiful. I love you, my dark flower." Hermione only further blushed. It was nice to see Ron appreciate her black beauty.

Sweeping her into another dizzying kiss, Ron slowly bent Hermione back over the wet stone tiles. Sighing into his lips, Hermione spread her legs, so that Ron was resting between her open knees. Sliding her panties back along her thighs, Ron held her gaze. Hermione moved to help him with his briefs.

Their collective gaze filled with heat and unbridled love, Ron kissed Hermione lazily. She moaned piteously. "Mmmm... Ron..."

"If I hurt you, tell me and I'll stop immediately," he hissed into her lips. Hermione slowly nodded her head. Realizing what he had just implied, Ron turned red. "I mean, I don't want to assume that you are a virgin."

"Ron, it's fine," Hermione laughed. She beamed. "I trust you."

He kissed her again, slowly pushing inch by inch into her femininity. Tears pricked at Hermione's eyes and she concentrated on sucking on Ron's full, red lips to get through the pain. Something gave way as she pull him inside her; her muscles alternatively tightened and stretched to accommodate his vastness.

Burying his face into her neck, Ron began to thrust, slowly at first. And while Hermione thought it was gentlemanly and sweet, she wasn't having it. Not when he had almost lost her, and she him.

"Oh, Merlin, Ron, fuck me! Fuck me hard! Fuck me!" she screamed quite suddenly.

And Ron began thrusting like a demon. With every slam, Hermione clawed at his back, writhing beneath him. Her very kissed and swollen mouth was making loud and riotous noises.

"Uhhhh... Huhhhh... Mmmhhmmmmm... Guhhh... Ohhhh... Ahhhhhh... Guhhhh... Hmmmm... Mmmm... Merlin, Ron, I'm going to... Oh, please have mercy... I - Fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

Body quivering, Hermione came apart all around Ron with a sexy scream. Flinging himself against her with one last, mighty slam, Ron ejaculated deep within her walls. Collapsing against her, the pair held each other close, the only sound being that of their ragged breathing.

Turning her head, Ron softly kissed Hermione one final time. When they broke the kiss at last and Ron pulled out like a gentleman, they gazed at each other, gaping at what they had just done.

And then they were both laughing, Hermione giggling. Redressing and both pink in the face, Hermione allowed herself, with a smile, to take Ron's hand. She was happy that her first time had been with him, that black and white had come together as one.

Now it was up to the rest of the wizarding world to do the same.


	5. Chapter 5: Falling In Love With the Enem

**Chapter 5: Fall in Love with the Enemy **

Hermione stood frozen in embarrassed horror, staring after the slammed door that Ron Weasley, her ex-boyfriend, had just exited through with his new fling, Lavender Brown.

Hermione and Ron's relationship had not even lasted a year after the war. Though the sex had indeed been amazing, even tenderly sweet, both of them had grown apart when Hermione had decided to complete her Hogwarts schooling the following term. Ron, meanwhile, had gone into the Auror training program with Harry. The split had been amicable, with both Ron and Hermione agreeing that they were better as friends. He had dutifully come to cheer Hermione on at her graduation, with Lavender Brown now on his arm.

Also newly graduated, Draco Malfoy had taken it upon himself to host the graduation party at Malfoy Manor. It seemed like a way for him to get back in others' good graces after his conflicted actions during the war, and he had expressly told Hermione that the drawing room had been completely redone. Only that had given Hermione the confidence to brave the dark grounds of Malfoy Manor again.

She and Draco had gotten to talking at the party, retreating back to his room where the air could be cleared more privately. Only Ron and Lavender, obviously looking for an empty room to snog in, had walked in on them. Ron, of course, had misconstrued that something was going on between the "damn ferret" (his words) and his best mate, resulting in an argument and the redhead eventually storming out.

"Don't worry about it, Granger. Weasley's always had a temper." He withdrew a full bottle of wine from his liquor cabinet. "How about a bottle of fire whiskey?"

Hermione agreed, the alcohol pouring freely, and with it, tongues loosening, as she and Draco talked long into the night. Finally, visibly plastered drunk, Hermione stood on wobbly legs to leave.

"Well... I'd best be going. People will be wondering where I..."

Her words trailed off as two firm hands grabbed and then started caressing her hips. She leaned in to the touch, feeling hot breath on her neck as someone began to suck on it. It was then that she remembered who the only other person in the room was. She started to turn her head.

"Malfoy, what are you -"

An impossibly soft hand cupped her cheek, tilting her head even further around. Warm lips pressed into her own as Draco silenced her with a kiss, but she spun her head away.

"Don't!" she spat, wiping at her mouth.

"All right," said Draco. "Not there." He brushed her hair aside and brought his lips down to her neck again. "But how about here?"

Hermione instinctually tilted her head back as Draco began kissing up her neck until he reached her ear. He moved behind her, his hands back on her hips as he nibbled on the area of skin just below her earlobe.

"Do you like it when I touch you, Granger?"

"N-no," she said, trying hard to convince her mind something that her body was currently disputing.

"I think you're lying," said Draco, moving his hands down to her legs and edging them back up so they were underneath the cloth of her gold dress. "That's why you're still here. In my bedroom. Because you want to fuck me."

Hermione moaned, her body betraying her as he ran his tongue back down her neck. "I … I don't," she insisted. "You're only doing this because you've been drinking, Malfoy."

"No. I've wanted to fuck you from the moment I saw you in that black dress at the graduation. Since then, I've been unable to think of much else."

There was no proper way to respond to a confession like that, so Hermione said nothing, feeling the heat radiate inside of her as he moved even farther up her thighs. And then one hand shifted, trailing up her back until it reached the zipper on her dress. The other drifted down from her cheek to audaciously cup the swell of her breast. Her breasts which were now perking and rising in arousal. Draco craned his neck around and managed to capture Hermione's lips, kissing her again. She held it for a moment, and then squirmed away, gaping.

"B-but … I'm a Muggle-Born. And I'm..." She held up one hand to the light, so that it caught on her dark skin. Draco seized her hand and began to lightly kiss her fingers.

"If I still gave a damn about that, do you think I would be propositioning you right now?"

Fair point. Maybe her truly had changed, grown beyond his racist ways from their time as schoolchildren. Even so...  
Her thoughts distracted her enough for Draco to kiss her yet a third time insistently. This time, her mouth fell open and Hermione moaned loudly. Kiss by kiss, moment by moment, her resistance was crumbling. She was running out of ways to excuse not sleeping with this handsome man. "Your parents!" she blurted out as he started to use the hand underneath her dress to play with her knickers. "Your parents would never forgive us if we -"

Draco spun her around now to face him, his hands sinking into her frizzy black locks. "My parents can go to hell," he growled, his pupils dilated and dark with lust. Yanking Hermione forward, he rammed his lips against hers as he kissed her hard. Against her better judgment, Hermione's eyes fluttered shut and when his tongue licked against her mouth, she parted her lips to grant him access. Somewhere along the line, her arms wandered up to drape about his neck.

Against Draco's insistent, plundering mouth, Hermione bit her lip, running out of arguments as his hand rubbed the highest point of her thigh. Finally, she initiated the slightest return of the kiss, moving her mouth against his as she began to kiss him back.

And then, slowly, her zipper came undone.

Pausing in the kissing, Draco finally released her thigh and used both of his hands to push Hermione's straps off of her shoulders. Her dress fell to a heap on the floor. Hermione was suddenly thankful that all of her practical knickers were in the laundry, leaving her in a lacy black set. It was a complete accident that her panties even matched her bra.

Draco stepped back and walked around so he was facing her. He studied her from head to foot, taking a slightly longer moment on the area of her body he fully intended to invade soon.

Hermione did her best to suck back her insecurities as he spent a great deal of time inspecting her. She put her hands on her hips. "Disappointed?" she asked.

"Not at all," said Draco, taking a step towards her. "Just as I suspected." He wrapped his arms around her hips and used her arse to pull her close. "All woman." He kissed across her cheek until he reached her neck.

Hermione brought up her hands and began unbuttoning his shirt. Once that was done, he helped her yank it off of him and discard it on the floor. Then her mouth found its way to his neck while he was undoing his trousers, letting them fall to a heap beside her dress. Hermione put a hand on his chest and pushed him back, stroking her chin as she scrutinized him in the same way he had just done to her.

"Disappointed?" he asked with a smirk.

"Not terribly, no," she said honestly. Actually, Draco's body was quite lovely. Still chiseled and firm with only a few blond hairs tainting what might as well have been porcelain. And he wore boxers. In the time, they had dated, Hermione had fooled around enough with Ron to know that he only wore briefs, and there was nothing sexy about briefs.

Stepping forward again, Draco put one hand behind Hermione's back and unhooked her bra. The moment it was gone, he attached his mouth to her breasts, sucking hard on the perky, pink nipples.

Between her moans, Hermione looked over at the door, suddenly remembering just what was going on downstairs and how many people were in this bloody house. Including the majority of her friends and schoolmates. The Weasleys. Harry...

"What if someone comes in?" she asked.

"They won't," said Draco, switching from one breast to the other. "I put Locking and Silencing Charms on the room the moment your bloody ex-boyfriend was out."

"That was a bit presumptuous, don't you think?"

Draco smirked against her breast. "I told you already that I've wanted to fuck you, and I'm not one to miss an opportunity when it comes running through my door."

Moving back up to her neck, Draco picked Hermione up by the arse and carried her over to the bed. He tossed her into the center of it and climbed on after. His lips found her collarbone while he began to grind his hardness in to her.  
Hermione's head felt light as one of his hands trailed downwards, slipping in to her knickers and rubbing roughly against her clit.

"So wet already," he said, stroking one of his digits into her folds. "I hope you don't mind if we skip the foreplay and go straight into the fucking." He dragged down his boxers. "As I've said before, it's been six bloody months." Followed shortly by her knickers.

Hermione cried out as his thumb pressed a little rougher than she was used to. But she liked it. "Oh, just get it over with already."

Draco froze and so did Hermione. She bit her lip. Merlin, did that ever come out wrong. He pulled back and looked down at her, his eyes no longer filled with the lust from just moments ago, but instead with genuine concern.

"Granger, if you don't want to do this -"

"No!" Hermione grabbed Draco's shoulders and flipped them so that she was straddling his lap. She had come too far to back out now. She needed this. Her body needed this. "I do," she said confidently, grabbing his already hard cock and giving it a few strokes before practically shoving it inside of her.

Both of them gasped on impact. She had not meant to be so rough about it. After all, it had been several months since she had sex, and she had been so busy distracting herself with schoolwork that there had not been much time to take care of this growing itch, even on her own.

After giving herself a moment to adjust, Hermione put her hands on Draco's chest and started bouncing fervently on his cock. There would be no taking it slow with him. That was not what she needed. What she needed was to feel wanted, to have someone take control of her body like she was something to be desired. And Draco seemed to understand that because he only let her get a few bounces in before he was roughly grabbing her thighs and flipping her onto her back.

"I'm the one who wants to fuck you. Remember, Granger?"

Draco seized her left leg and tossed it over his shoulder, grabbing onto the headboard just behind her and using it to brace himself while he began to mercilessly thrust into her. Hermione brought one of her hands between them, using it to touch herself while the other crept around to Draco's arse, her nails digging deeply into it to urge him on. She lowered her leg, brought her mouth up and began sucking on any piece of skin of his she could find.

Draco groaned a little louder than he intended when she found the soft spot on his neck. Hermione smiled and focused on there for a moment, but the more she sucked the harder he thrust, and soon Draco was going so fast that she could not control herself. Her head fell backwards onto the bed and her body convulsed as she felt the familiar heat building up inside of her, just about ready to burst.

Hermione removed her hand from her clit, knowing she needed no help to finish this. Right now, all she wanted to focus on was the heat. The beautiful, desperate, scorching heat. Both of her hands flung to his back, squeezing his sweat soaked body against hers, her nails clawing cat-like marks into his perfect skin as she felt herself getting that much closer.

"Malfoy, I … I'm going to - Oh, fuck!"

And, suddenly, all coherent thought left her completely as the heat burst and spread through her body like a tidal wave. Her back arched, her toes curled, and her nails dug so deeply into him that she was positive she drew blood.

Staring down at the beautiful 'O' shape Hermione's mouth made as she came undone, Draco could not contain himself any longer. With three more brutal thrusts, he was coming inside of her, continuing to fuck her through both of their orgasms until there was nothing left.

Hermione fell back, her mind fuddled and her body spent as she felt Draco soften inside of her. He collapsed, breathing heavily into the crook of her neck for a moment before slowly rolling off of her.

"Fuck …" he muttered after taking a long moment to catch his breath. "I haven't had a shag like that in …" He paused and gulped. "… a long fucking time."

Hermione said nothing, not wanting to admit out loud that she had actually never had a shag like that. Ron was the only man she had ever been with and sex with him had always been slow and romantic. Back before it became routine, at least. She could actually count the times she and Ron had been driven by raw passion on one hand, and it had still never been quite like what she had just experienced.

And that was when it hit her.

Ron was the only man she had ever been with … And, now, he was not. She had just slept with Draco Malfoy. Well, she certainly never saw this day coming.

Her body limp and noodly, her eyes rolling, Hermione curled into Draco's warmth and fell asleep.

* * *

Hermione awoke with a pounding headache a few hours later. Moonlight still streamed across the bed, the white orb hanging high in the sky. Turning her head, she observed a naked man with porcelain skin and gold spun hair sleeping, the rise and fall of his toned chest easy and light.

The memory of her and Draco having sex roaring back to her, Hermione threw back the covers and staggered out of bed. In the dark, she groped about for her clothes. Finding her panties and bra strewn at the foot of a vanity and mirror, she bent to pick it up...

... and suddenly felt her body being pushed, braced into the table. The feel of those warm, calloused, strong hands, once again gripping her hips. She must not have heard him awaken and rise.

"Draco..." Hermione whined as his digits began to massage along her pelvis. "I have to dress..."

"Not yet you don't," he hissed in her ear. "The night's still young. And I need to fuck you again. Bend over this table, my Negro beauty! I need to take you in the arse!"

Ordinarily, Hermione would have bristled at anyone using the archaic N-word. But Draco said it tenderly, as if it was something precious. And no one - at least no white man, other than Ron - had ever valued her blackness as beauty, at least beyond raw sex appeal.

Hermione moaned loudly and bent prostrate over the vanity, her bra and panties slipping from her hand as Draco's nails dug into her hipbones. He grinded and rubbed his cock fiercely against her arse cheeks, and she felt him grow hard against her skin. Hermione's hands found the far edge of the vanity, and she gripped the polished wood so hard, her knuckles lightened into a chocolate brown.

"Mmmmm... Ohhh, Draco, please fuck me... fuck me in the ass... fuck me hard!" The last came out in a scream.

Draco obeyed. Next moment, Hermione jolted with an airy yelp as she felt Draco slam his cock into the pretty hole between her dark arse cheeks. No man had ever taken her from behind before - Ron never had, it wasn't his style. The sensation was thrilling and new and made Hermione shiver in delight.

"Oh God!" she cried, twerking her buttocks into Draco's pelvis while he furiously thrusted into her. Grabbing her face with a free hand, Draco turned her cheek and kissed her furiously, his tongue swimming into her mouth to muffle her cries.

"Mmmmm! Hmmmm!" Hermione squealed piteously. The vanity shuddered and groaned with loud thumps alongside every shiver and slam of their bodies.

Finally, Draco roared into Hermione's mouth, making her teeth chatter around his plundering tongue, as he ejaculated deep inside her ass. Hermione collapsed against the vanity, panting.

But they weren't done yet. Oh, Merlin, were they not done yet. Pulling out and spinning her around roughly, Draco snarled and kissed Hermione hard. Seizing her curvy bum, he squeezed it before lifting Hermione off her feet. She had no choice but to fold her quivering thighs about his waist, closing her eyes and deepening the kiss and moaning as he carried her out onto the balcony. Lowering her down onto the stone, Draco lined up their entrances. Hermione's eyes popped open and she whimpered, wiggling out of the kiss.

"Mmmm... wait. Wait. Someone might hear..."

Draco bent low and whispered in her ear. "I put up Concealing and Silencing Charms... so no one can hear you scream." Hermione yipped out a squeak and flushed deeply.

Kissing her lazily, Draco raised his hips and thrust into Hermione's flooded pussy. She groaned, jerking at how roughly he took her, but she liked it. Oh, how she liked it. Winding both of her chocolate legs around the middle of his back, Hermione's body jiggled as Draco thrust into her again and again and again. Soon, his hands were digging into the stone of the balcony railing to give him support. Beneath him, Hermione writhed and moaned between every kiss Draco supped from her lips.

"Mmmmm... Hmmm... Huhhh... Uhhhhh! Ohhhhh! Ahhhhhh... Ohhhh... Oh, Merlin, Draco... Draco... Draco..." Her walls clenched and she arched her back with a scream. "DRACO!"

Her throat was raw, and Hermione nearly bellowed the phrase to the moon, as the beautiful dark-skinned witch exploded around him. Draco growled and pressed on, every thrust gradually becoming weaker and weaker.

"Grrrr... Hrrrr... Uhhhh... Her...Hermione... Fuck!" With one final, pathetic slam, Draco spurted all the seed he had left deep inside Hermione's walls before collapsing on top of her.

Utterly spent and exhausted, her brain fuzzy and running on a high, Hermione kissed Draco sloppily, pulling him close. Tightly feeling the steady and slowing beat of his heart, Hermione fell asleep against him. Wrapped in her arms, Draco soon followed suit.

* * *

The lovers awoke again, blissfully naked, as the sky was beginning to gray. Draco kissed Hermione lightly, and the pair shared a loving smile.

"Hermione?"

"Y...Yes?"

"I love you. Will you marry me?"

Hermione peered at him, tamping down a gasp. It had not been very long since she had parted ways with Ron, and she had initially thought she would give herself some time before dating again. And yet... Draco had seduced her, mind, body and soul. His racist past was dead. And he made love to her so amazingly, unbelievably.

And so, Hermione draped her arms about the white man's neck and kissed him passionately on the mouth. Drawing away with a small POP!, she whispered:

"Yes, I will."

* * *

Draco didn't ask his parents about marrying Hermione. He told them.

Once Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had come around to that fact, and realizing that they didn't want to lose their son, they opened their arms to Hermione. Their future daughter-in-law was not ready to forgive them yet for their own prejudiced misdeeds, but marrying their son was a first step.

Getting Harry and the Weasleys to accept Draco was actually the harder of the two familial summits. Hermione's adoptive parents had passed away in the war, and so the brood of redheads was the closest thing to in-laws Draco would ever have. Coming to this conclusion himself, Harry could not hide his amusement. To him, it felt like karmic payback, for a pureblood to marry a Muggle-born, thus entering a biracial marriage in which his closest relatives by marriage would be blood traitors.

More than once in preparing for the wedding, Hermione and Draco joked, not so much about their two bloodlines coming together for peace and good, but about how being a biracial couple would cause some unfortunate color clashes in their wardrobe. In picking out her dress, Hermione felt the white silk contrasted with her dark skin. Rifling through pitch black tuxedos, Draco and his albino skin tone encountered a similar problem, though this didn't seem to bother him as much as it did his future bride.

"If the color scheme of your dress really bothers you, you can always change it, love," Draco reminded Hermione. "To me, you'll look beautiful now matter what color dress you're in." Ultimately, Hermione decided to stick with the white dress, as it was tradition.

It was a lovely wedding ceremony, held at the Burrow. Once again, Draco had demonstrated how much he had become a man by agreeing to the venue site, against his parents' designs. Despite the fact that Malfoy Manor was where he and Hermione had made love for the first time, it was also the place where she had once been tortured while he watched. For this latter reason, Draco refused to marry Hermione in a place that held that dark memory.

Hermione looked like a pristine angel coming down the aisle, glowing and blushing on Harry's arm. Ron had been conscripted to be Draco's Best Man, though he had grumbled about it. But he had submitted because he wanted his ex-girlfriend to be happy. He had finally seemed to move on from their brief romance, it seemed.

Once Kingsley Shacklebolt had declared Draco and Hermione married as husband and wife, Draco had taken Hermione in his arms, tilted her chocolate-brown face back, and kissed her dark lips. Throwing her arms about his neck, Hermione purred happily, as their loved ones applauded and fireworks burst high up in the evening sky...

And as Draco and Hermione kissed, as Hermione kissed her new husband - a man who had truly changed to good - she came to realize: the spell that her mother had recited to her as a little girl had truly been broken. In falling in love with and marrying a white man, Hermione had learned to embrace her heritage while also accepting new ones. Draco had crossed from dark to light to be with her.

As Hermione kissed him, she couldn't help but imagine with thrilling anticipation just how beautiful their future babies would be, with soft brown skin...

* * *

**A/N: Credit where credit is due: the first part of this chapter is slightly repurposed from an AMAZING smut scene in Lena Phoria's masterpiece epic, _The Deadline_.**


End file.
